


Where we end

by regsregis



Series: Sugar and Gold [4]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, also its not strictly jackothy but there are traces of it, and a possibilty that never became reality, it doesn't have a happy ending but, okay so it's not exactly a death fic butt... you know how the story ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 18:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11258769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regsregis/pseuds/regsregis
Summary: So yeah, here it is, a mix of a couple of tumblr prompts and bl summer bingo, all neatly wrapped into a wrap up of Tim's story in this verse. I'm sorry it couldn't be a happy story.





	Where we end

“Rise and shine sugar! Big day today, we’ve gotta lots of shit to do!”

Jack’s overly cheerful voice makes him want to bury deeper into the comforting warmth of his makeshift lair, extra comforters and sheets he has found laying around the castle wrapped around him and his two companions. Tim would rather have the Sorcerer leave him alone so he can keep pretending today is any other day of the year instead of what it actually is.

See, the thing is, most people don’t get a forewarning when it comes to the date of their deaths. They try to go about their lives as if every day was the last of their lives while they secretly keep on hoping they are special enough to defy the inevitable.

But Timothy isn’t most people, the date of summer solstice hanging around his neck like a noose and he -knows- this is his last day.

“Why? What do you need me for?” Technically, he does know what the Sorcerer needs him for, fattening Timothy like a pig before a wedding, except in this case his body was put through a punishing series of experiments and exercises. There is tenderness to his lower back where Jack did -something- to the base of his spine last night and he really doesn’t want to think about it right now. Nor does he want to think about what new incarnation of abuse the man has in mind this time.

“Quit it with the questions, all in due time. Get up lad, chop chop!” And with that and a flap of his coat, the Sorcerer turns around to briskly march out of Tim’s room.

He can feel chill slowly seeping through his bare feet and creeping up his body as he sluggishly digs through the small content of one of the drawers, pulling out fresh clothes. Dressing up would probably be easier if he didn’t have two bulky figures demanding their morning dose of affection and chin scritches. With a sigh and half a heart, Tim gives them just that, quietly wondering who’s going to care for them in his absence. 

The Sorcerer can be found in the courtyard, pacing back and forth and thrumming with barely contained energy. The apparent excitement manifests itself in a snatch of Tim’s ear before the man proceeds to drag him faster towards the stables. 

“H-hhey. Where are we going?”

Stables which usually are occupied by one of Jack’s dragons. A wyvern to be precise, he has made the mistake of calling it a dragon once and the Sorcerer nearly talked his ear off for that. Because their front legs are also their wings. Yeah. The hulking beast lumbers out of the building, barely able to fit inside and yet stubbornly insisting on making it its lair and when it stretches with a yawn, Tim spots, with a solid load of dread, a saddle strapped to its back.

“-You- tell me sugar. Told you it’s your big day, I gotta spoil my special boy, hmm?” 

He’d rather...not, especially if it included mounting the beast and then leaving the safety of solid ground. 

“I uhh… can I have breakfast first. Please?”

“No,” the man is already scaling the wyvern’s back, easy and effortlessly just like he did everything else and there is a hand extended towards Timothy, an impatient gesture motioning for him to get going, “you’ll eat once we reach our destination. So tell me little Timtam, where do you want to have your meal? Mountains? Seaside? Forest? I’ve seen you staring at the maps for hours on end so I know you can make your choice.” 

Kitchen, please and thank you. Regardless, there is no use arguing with the mulish Sorcerer once he sets his mind on something and with a nervous exhale rattling from between his ribs, Tim takes the offered hand only to be forcibly hauled up and over the beast’s back. He has just enough time to squirm himself into the saddle with Jack pressed over his back, before their mount takes a long running jump and with a few strong beats of its monstrous wings, the cumbersome weight lifts off the ground.

Tim settles on mountains, their outline glimmering in the distance and only visible when the air was clear enough for sight to travel far. With his eyes squeezed shut, he tries flattening himself over the beast’s back, fingers finding little purchase against the smooth scales and the wiry muscles shifting underneath the saddle jostle him with every beat taking them higher. The air turns colder but between the warmth burning the reptile from inside out and the man at his back, there is no need for additional protection against the chill.

“Uh-huh.” Of course the Sorcerer wouldn’t let him be, moving about in the saddle as if he had no fear of falling down. That’s fine though, Tim has plenty of it for the both of them. “None of that bullshit sugar,” the hand that isn’t currently wrapped around his midsection, moves to roughly grab him by his chin and bodily force him to lean over the wyvern’s back, “open your eyes.”

No fucking way and so he only shakes his head. The general rule says that you do not deny the Sorcerer anything and Timothy has desperately clutched onto it in hopes of survival for the past couple of years when he was made to share Jack’s living space. And the man clearly doesn’t take well to the ‘no’, quickly growing agitated and giving a few angry shakes to the body in his arms.

“Don’t be fucking stupid Timtam. Open your eyes.” He’s quite positive that if he were to refuse, the Sorcerer would find a way, possibly a rather painful way, to force his eyes open so with a quiet whimper, he cracks them open. 

They are soaring across the sky and everything beneath is...just so incredibly small, ground moving way too slowly compared to the harsh wind tugging at his hair and clothes. It takes his breath away, the view _and_ the wind, making him subconsciously try to squirm further into the Sorcerer’s embrace. The man makes a bad joke about his clinginess, never the one to let an opportunity like that pass and Tim has to wonder where Jack’s fondness for having things desperately latched onto him came from.

“Sh-shut up. It’s not what it looks like…”

“Sure is, sugar.” He laughs and Timothy yelps when the wyvern dives to land atop mountain peak in a flurry of snow. 

There is a fur lined coat being draped over his shoulders and the brilliant white sleet crunches under heavy boots as they make their way to the precipice overlooking a sharp incline where Jack casually plops himself down and swings his legs over the edge. Tim opts for a small rock a safe distance away from the edge and digs into the food offered to him, the excitement of the flight catching up to him in form of a low rumble of his stomach.

“So uh… why are you doing this?

“Why wouldn’t I? What? You’d rather disappear without having seen all of this? My advice, keep your eyes peeled for everything new, not many people get the chance to see the things I want to show you.” It’s true, ‘truth’ stuck in an eerie juxtaposition with the Handsome Sorcerer as the man is, this place certainly looks like it doesn’t see many visitors. “Ready? You have the time until midnight princess, clock’s ticking so where to next?”

“Can we see the capital? Where the king lives?” Jack doesn’t seem particularly thrilled but ends up agreeing with a warning that they will need to land a fair distance from the city. Timothy has heard that the Sorcerer isn’t a very welcomed figure on the court but it’s not the king’s castle that has his interest but rather, the bustling, busy streets of the largest human settlement this side of the Frozen Wastes.

The reality exceeded his expectations, the city is stunning, colorful window sills and slates easily drawing his attention away from the dirty cobblestones underneath their feet. The capital is even more lively today, its inhabitants preparing for the solstice celebrations and Tim is probably the only person in the kingdom who wasn’t looking forward to this day. By the time they reach the main square, the merchants are already done setting up their stands, dazzling wares from around the kingdoms shimmering in the bright sun that has just about reached its zenith. It doesn’t even take that much pleading glances cast Jack’s way for the man to fish a few coins out of his pocket and soon enough Tim is happily munching on an apple dipped in caramel, sweet sauce sticking to his chin and fingers. Then it’s time for a skewered, grilled meat, a delicacy from some far away land. He knows he might be overstuffing himself a little bit but then again and not without a small dose of spite, it’s Jack who’ll be dealing with the repercussions of it come morning.

There still is a couple of coins clutched in his hand by the time he has tried everything looking even moderately edible and his gaze idly drifts to a stand offering vibrantly dyed silks. The merchant tries chasing him and his still dirty fingers away but with a smug grin, Tim tosses him the remaining money and the man shuts his mouth. A particular strip of pure golden fabric catches his eye, intricate patterns painted in a darker shade along the edges and ultimately, that’s what he settles on. 

“Not that I am judging your choices here, sugar, loving the colour by the way but uhh… kinda redundant?” Jack peeks from behind him, his eyebrows furrowed, and in the end, he takes a step back when Tim moves to wrap the soft material around his own neck.

“Will nicely complement golden eyes I suppose…” He makes a vague gesture towards the Sorcerer’s face and cracks the tiniest of shy smiles. With inescapable doom and gloom looming over you, there are only two viable options, despair or cynicism tinged with hysterical laughter, and he has done enough useless crying in recent days.

“Wow, have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

On every other day, Tim would have tried to hide the expression blooming on his face behind a scowl but today… he has nothing more to lose so he only beams in response.

“If in that alternate universe I get actually regularly paid for giving you my body then… can we stay there?” Jack laughs, a rare, genuine sound which for the very first time makes Tim realize that today is a small miracle happening just for him. A hand clad in black and golden armour moves to ruffle his hair and just like that, Jack turns around to once again move through the crowd.

“Come on Timtam, all those places aren’t going to visit themselves.”

With each next flight the ordeal becomes slightly more bearable, one fascinating place visited after another. They take a lazy stroll through the deepest wilderness of the centuries old forest, walking amongst graves long forgotten. 

Tim gets to curiously dip his finger into a small pond surrounded by unfamiliar flora as he listens to a tale of two star crossed lovers and how they used to meet here. 

Jack lets him play for a while with wild desert kittens as the man keeps their overprotective mother placated with a gentle spell and a few scratches of his gloved hand behind her ears. 

By the time a glimmer of orange in the distance catches his gaze, Timothy keeps his eyes open wide at all times, soaking in the views around him.

The ocean. A vast spread of blue on the map, in reality the setting sun tints it with all possible shades ranging from reds to yellows.

The sand under his bare feet is warm, heat radiating up his body and settling down with an almost cozy feeling in his chest. He has never been to the coast but he’s definitely liking it here, at least, until Jack forwards yet another unreasonable demand. 

“Alright, drop your clothes.” The man is already following Tim’s suit, kicking off his boots and rolling up his trousers up to his knees but then he doesn’t make any more moves to continue undressing.

“W-what?” 

“You heard me. Take. It. All. Off.” Each word is punctuated with an impatient jab to his chest, “move it sugar, there ain’t anything I haven’t seen or won’t be seeing.” Not everybody can be like the Sorcerer, flaunting his body left and right with no shame or modesty. Except, well, Tim can and will be the Sorcerer so with a dejected sigh and then a surprised yelp, he lets the man herd him towards the water.

“See? Not so bad.” Tim reckons the angry and impatient tones often colouring the man’s words are just Handsome Sorcerer’s own brand of care, skewed as it is. So, yeah, the water isn’t so bad if rather on the cooler side, quite pleasant even as he soon is prodded to move deeper, Jack staying behind to tread in the shallow waters. 

By the time gentle waves reach high enough to lap around his chest, Timothy lets his body drop back until he’s floating with arms spread wide. It’s far more satisfying than splashing in the cool stream running just past the outskirts of his home village, the water feeling somehow denser and definitely warmer. He quickly learns that it’s also salty. From the corner of his eye, he watches Jack angrily stomp towards the shore when an errant wave has accidentally caught him off guard and left the man with clothes soaked up to his thighs.

A little while later, shaking the remaining water off and reaching for his discarded clothes, Tim parks himself beside the other man who seems to be lazily dozing off with his back propped against the slowly rising and falling side of the wyvern.

“Thank you…” 

“Mhm… let me know if you want anything else, everything for my special boy.” Jack’s voice is as annoyingly singsong as it ever was whenever the man aimed for those patronizing notes.

“Ahh-actually…” There is one golden eye peeking at him from under half closed eyelid but Tim doesn’t wait for a prompt to keep talking and just chooses to lean closer and press their lips together. Satisfaction that comes with surprising the man who usually dealt in dishing out nasty surprises _himself_ , is a reward on its own. That is not to say that the contact, to his astonishment, isn’t also pleasing, a dry drag of his still cold skin against Jack’s burning hot one. Lips part under his touch but there is no instigation to deepen the contact, the gesture aimed rather at making the arrangement more comfortable. When he cracks one eye open, Tim sees the dumbest thing ever, the glimpse of which steals his breath and turns his world upside down. 

Jack kisses with his eyes closed and fluttering eyelashes and that’s the most human thing Tim has ever seen the Sorcerer do. He wasn’t exactly expecting anything in particular besides maybe the ever present furrow of two sharply angled eyebrows and yet he’s still taken aback by the surprising serenity on Jack’s face. There is a barely there nip to his lower lip when the man senses his momentary distraction and when he pulls back, warmth sticks to his skin, spreading outwards and leaving a trace of an itch in memory of the touch. Something must have stayed stuck to Jack’s lips too because he runs his tongue over them as if chasing something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Yeah, well…” Jack clears his throat and sits a little bit straighter, previously hunched shoulders now squared, “...you want some more I’d rather take it someplace else. I don’t really fancy getting sand in my unmentionables.”

“Nah. I’m good.” He sinks back against the scaly side of the beast and fixes his eyes on the sliver of bright orange still visible over the horizon. “Just uhh… making sure you won’t go running around and kissing people poorly with my mouth.” 

“Suit yourself. That’s your last chance.” Golden eyes keep boring into him but Tim has nothing to lose anymore and so he can let himself be a little bit mouthy without fearing retribution coming from the man who basically owned him.

“Even if I felt like it, what I have in mind would only leave you complaining at being sore all over tomorrow.” Jack laughs but with a murmured ‘shame’ drops the topic having sensed that there was nothing to gain for him here.

“You have about an hour before we have to head back” The Sorcerer goes back to his relaxed pose, hands coming up to fold behind the back of his head and the quietness lasts a good couple of minutes before the man lets out an agitated huff. “You have so little faith in me little Timtam.”

Regardless of the implications, what Timothy is really after, is companionship and a lazy afternoon.

-

The hard material the mask is made of feels completely different to what he has felt when he kissed Jack and he traces his fingertips over its edge. He reckons it will soften and warm up once it melds with his face. 

"I wish I could hate you..." But what he really means is, _I wish I could quit you_

It feels like walking the plank must feel, steeling yourself before taking a deep breath around the heart hammering in your throat, muscles winding together before the board dips under your weight and you are quite literally toeing the line where the wood ends and nothing begins. All that’s left is a dive into the dark waters with no hopes for drawing another gulp of air again and it takes all your courage to let the gravity do its work.

With one last glance stolen towards the limp body slumped in the chair opposite to him, soft features and parted lips making Jack’s previous host appear to be asleep, Tim follows the urging whisper brushing along the rim of his consciousness and places the mask over his face. 

At first it doesn’t feel like anything but then his skin grows strangely numb, bones becoming a tad too heavy to even consider struggling and something curls inside of his chest, same warmth he has earlier felt against his lips now rapidly expanding and burning him from inside out. There is a name building on his lips, a call for help or explanation but it never leaves them, his mouth no longer his, itching when the layer covering them now, sinks deeper into the skin. His thoughts become scrambled, no longer able to focus on anything in particular, as does his vision, his surrounding gradually losing their proportions, things in the far end of the study room growing bigger as his own hands suddenly look as if they have shrunk.

It’s like he’s being erased and rewritten anew, and he hangs onto the memories of today because that’s one thing he shares with the entity making itself at home in his head and heart. The emotions and feelings associated with those events take on a new shape and tinge, where there was wonder, boredom takes over and in one last desperate lurch Tim looks for the reflection of the tender touch imprinted on his lips. That sparks a bubble of laughter, shoving away the repressed scream burning at the back of his throat and he chokes on those two conflicting sounds. He’s both still amazed with how it felt and what he saw on Jack’s face as well as infinitely amused that anyone would ever attribute those emotions to the Sorcerer. There is a figurative note being scribbled and stashed in his memory to stop kissing with his eyes closed and ‘fluttering eyelashes’.

Something claws its way out, through the bone and skin and out of his skull, two smooth shapes of something vile materializing in the waking world and using his head like a portal, until eventually, they come to a rest in two curls pointing towards his back. There is so much pure power stored there that in his marvel, Tim barely pays attention to the alien sensation extending now inwards, the Sorcerer’s essence growing roots to anchor itself into his brain and then dart lower along his spine.

The pain is subsiding as quickly as is Tim, and then he _isn’t_ and then he’s _him_. And when Jack runs his hand through his new hair, he’s himself again.

“We’re going to have so much fun together sugar…”

There are remnants of another consciousness clinging to him but he didn’t go through this whole farce of spoiling his new host for nothing. While on every previous occasion he had to fight and forcefully subdue the original occupants of the bodies he claimed for himself, after today, Timothy seems amiable enough and desperate to not be completely forgotten, that in the end, Jack lets him in instead of completely extinguishing his being. The tiniest of voices curls to huddle by his side, a benevolent sprite to maybe whisper an advice or two into the Handsome Sorcerer’s ear, now melding and melting to become a part of him. 

Later, upon catching his reflection in the water, Jack will have to agree that the golden fabric does really complement his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> sooo this leaves us with the question of how much of tim preserved in the Jack we are dealing in the main story and how big his influence on the decisions jack makes and his reactions tim may have  
> also, my dudes, ive been tripping balls throughout most of the day when writing it bc new meds and stuff so uhh, i cant guarantee any coherency here


End file.
